SuperPotterLock- The Chamber of Secrets
by Nurmengardx
Summary: Harry, Ron and Hermione are back for another year at Hogwarts, along with Sherlock Holmes, John Watson and Castiel Edlund. The heir of Slytherin is at large and Gilderoy Lockhart catches Sherlock's attention. He investigates, but loses focus on the mystery of the Chamber of Secrets. Will he catch up in time?
1. At Flourish and Blotts

_I hate to be the author that puts notes at the top but I'd just like to welcome anyone that is new to this story. If you are here, you may not have noticed that I did the Philosopher's Stone as well and I highly recommend you read that one first. You don't have to but some things might not make a lot of sense. Either way, I hope you enjoy it._

* * *

At Flourish and Blotts

Harry was sitting comfortably at the Weasleys' table one morning, a week after he arrived by flying car, when three owls arrived. Mr Weasley was handing out identical envelopes of yellowish parchment.

'Letters from school,' he said. 'Dumbledore already knows you're here, Harry- never misses a trick, that man.'

Harry unfolded his letter, which told him to catch the Hogwarts Express on September the first, and there was a list of new books that second years would require.

These were:

_The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 _by Miranda Goshawk

_Break with a Banshee_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Gadding with Ghouls_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Holidays with Hags_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Travels with Trolls_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Voyages with Vampires_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Year with the Yeti_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

Ron caught Harry's eye and raised his eyebrows.

'This lot won't come cheap,' George frowned. 'Lockhart's books are really expensive…'

'We'll manage,' said Mrs Weasley. 'I expect we'll be able to pick up a lot of Ginny's things second-hand.'

'Oh, are you starting at Hogwarts this year?' Harry asked Ginny. She nodded, blushing tomato red and put her elbow in the butter dish. Just then Percy walked in, already dressed with his Hogwarts prefect badge pinned to his knitted vest top.

'Hang on, don't sit!'

Ron dived at the chair and pulled a moulting, grey owl from under Percy's bottom.

'You almost sat on Errol!'

Percy rolled his eyes and started on his breakfast.

'_Finally- _he's got Hermione's answer. I wrote to her _ages _ago.'

He dumped Errol on the draining board, where he dropped off to sleep.

'Pathetic,' Ron muttered before ripping open Hermione's letter and reading it aloud.

_Dear Ron, and Harry if you're there,_

_I hope everything went all right and that Harry is ok and that you didn't do anything illegal to get him out, Ron, because that would get Harry into trouble, too. I've been really worried and if Harry's all right, will you please let me know at once, but perhaps it would be better if you used a different owl because I think another delivery might finish your one off. I think Castiel's new one is on her way to you. If she hasn't arrived already, maybe you can ask to borrow her. It might take a while, though, he lives in North Wales somewhere._

_I'm very busy with school work, of course –'_How can she be?' said Ron in horror. 'We're on holiday!'_- and we're meeting Castiel in London next Wednesday. Why don't we meet in Diagon Alley?_

_Let me know what's happening as soon as you can, love from Hermione._

Just then a handsome tawny flew in, followed by a black barn owl, one landing in front of Mrs Weasley and the other in front of Ron. Ron groaned as he saw the tawny.

'Isn't that Mycroft's owl?' Percy asked. Mrs Weasley opened it and read it to them.

_Dear Weasley family,_

_We are hosting a small dinner party this afternoon at four o' clock and we would be delighted if you could make it. Unfortunately we are a few guests short, so please feel free to invite whomever you would like. I would very much like for our children to get to know one another a little better._

_Cordially yours, Mrs A. Holmes_

'But it's not even Saturday,' Ron moaned.

'Behave, Ron, I think it's a brilliant idea- and we can bring Harry,' Mrs Weasley beamed.

'So, where does Sherlock live?' Harry asked curiously.

'They live in this huge house on the other side of the village- you can actually see it from my window,' Ron said miserably.

'Are you going to open your, or what?' Fred said to Ron.

'Oh, right.'

He opened it to reveal a neat, flowing script.

'It's from Castiel,' he said, passing the letter to Harry.

_Dear Ron,_

_Hermione told me of your plans to rescue Harry from his family, though I realise by the time this reaches you he is likely to already be there- in which case I would like to introduce you both to my new owl. Her name is Grace; Gabriel bought her for me when he was made Prefect. The woman in the store said she's a rare kind of barn owl. I am meeting Hermione in London next Wednesday; perhaps you would like to join us. I hope you have all had a good summer._

_Before you send Grace back, could you please let her rest? It's a long way to our house._

_See you soon, Castiel._

Mrs Weasley rose from the table and glanced at the clock, which read eleven o' clock.

'Arthur, dear, are you coming?'

Mr Weasley looked up at her, blinking.

'What? Where?'

'To the Holmes's, later.'

'Oh, erm, I shouldn't think so, no, lots of paperwork…' he trailed off at the expression on Mrs Weasley's face and stared at his breakfast.

'Right, I want you all to get washed up and find your best clothes so I can clean them- yes that includes you, Fred.'

Fred grumbled something about wanting to play Quidditch, but he stomped upstairs with George, if only to avoid the wrath of Mrs Weasley. Harry and Ron turned to go.

'Oh, Harry, dear, have you got any smart clothes with you?' Mrs Weasley asked.

'Er…' Somehow he seriously doubted it.

'That's all right, I'm sure we can find you something,' Mrs Weasley smiled.

Harry smiled back and he and Ron climbed up to the very top of the house where Ron's room was. Harry squinted of the window at the village.

'So, which one's Sherlock's?' he asked. Ron snorted.

'The big one. It's a bit misty today so you might not be able to see it.'

Harry scanned all of the houses but couldn't see one likely to be Sherlock's.

'Don't worry, you'll see it later,' said Ron.

A few hours later, they were all lined up by the front door in freshly ironed clothes. Mrs Weasley had dug Harry up a nice pair of black trousers and a shirt that was slightly too big for him. The twins and Ron had their best jeans on- the ones with the least amount of rips in- but Percy had dressed up in his very best set of robes.

'He's trying to impress Mycroft,' Ron muttered. 'He got a job at the Ministry and now Percy won't stop sucking up to him.

'Right, I think that's everyone- let's go.'

Mrs Weasley led them down the dusty path until they came to the first quiet houses of the sleepy village. Despite the fact that there were quite a few of them, they made barely any noise as they walked along the pavement. On the other side of the village, Mrs Weasley turned them off onto a long driveway, shaded by tall, green trees. The drive wound round and curved back and forth.

'They had to build this driveway after the entire village had to have their memories modified,' George explained to Harry. 'He blew up the entire left wing of their house and it rained frogs that belched marshmallows for a week. Still not sure how he managed it.'

Finally, the driveway opened out and Harry's jaw dropped open. The biggest house he had ever seen reared up before him with a huge, neat lawn spread out beneath the ornate windows. It was all made of smooth, whit granite four stories high, with a few decorative eagle statues perched on the corners of the roof. Most of the windows were curtained closed, but the ones on the ground floor were thrown open. The front doors were made of two large slabs of solid oak, carved into the shaped of the Ravenclaw coat of arms. Suddenly, the doors opened and a very tall, very slim woman in flowing blue robes walked out. Her high cheekbones were thrown into sharp relief by the carefully controlled curls that framed her face.

'Good afternoon,' she said politely. 'Do come in.'

She led them through the double doors into a brightly lit hall with stairs leading to the upper floors.

'There are some things I must attend to, please feel free to make your way through to the living room. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr Potter, my name is Amanda Holmes, I'm the boys' mother.'

She smiled stiffly and exited through a door to the left. Mrs Weasley pointed them through the one between the two sets of staircases. As they walked under the mahogany banister, Harry finally saw some evidence that Sherlock lived here. Scorch marks littered the otherwise perfectly polished banister and there were discoloured patches all over the shiny, wooden flooring.

The living room was large and luxurious, with thick green and blue carpets, matching curtains, and a huge, ornately carved fireplace- the mantelpiece the same mahogany wood as the banister outside. Ron and the twins immediately threw themselves down on the plush, powder blue sofas and Mrs Weasley sat herself in an armchair facing the fireplace. Harry and Percy hovered awkwardly by the door. A few minutes of silence passed before they heard the sound of Mycroft's voice drifting under the door. He seemed to be shouting at someone- most likely Sherlock. His voice got louder and louder until the door flew open and Sherlock walked calmly in, wrapped in nothing but a crisp, white bed sheet. He parked himself next to Ron on the sofa and waited.

Mycroft burst in thunderously, glaring and Sherlock.

'What on Earth is the matter with you?' he demanded.

'Nothing's the matter with me,' Sherlock replied airily.

'I've already told you, I'm picking up John in a minute, now what is the problem?'

'There is no problem.'

Mycroft groaned in irritation and rubbed his eyes.

'This is a very important afternoon and I'll not have you ruining it. Sherlock Holmes, _put your trousers on!'_

'What for?' Sherlock said sulkily. Mycroft made a noise somewhere between despair and exasperation and turned to leave.

'I'm going to get John, don't blame me if you embarrass yourself in front of him.'

He stalked huffily out of the room, slamming the door behind him. As soon as he was gone, Fred and George burst into laughter. Sherlock grinned and started laughing himself.

'So, come on, spill it. Why's this afternoon so important?' Fred asked Sherlock, who sighed.

'The Minister is coming for dinner and Mycroft wants to be promoted to his office,' he told them.

'Well then, you should get dressed,' Percy said sniffily. Sherlock turned his head towards Percy, eyes shielded by his messy hair.

'Or, I could not. You can sit down, Harry.'

Harry gratefully sat down on Ron's other side.

'Hang on a minute; I thought he only just started working at the Ministry. He can't be wanting a promotion already,' Ron said incredulously.

'Oh, believe me, he can,' Sherlock confirmed.

'You know, we could help Mycroft and give the Minister an 'extra special surprise',' Fred grinned.

'You will do no such thing,' Mrs Weasley said sternly.

'Oh, come on, Mum, Fudge is just an old, stuffed up git. He'll never even know it was us,' George moaned.

'Don't even think about it. He's your father's boos too, remember?'

The twins both flopped back in their seats, folding their arms.

'Don't look at me like that,' Mrs Weasley warned them. 'You two had better behave yourselves, or I'll take away your brooms until you go back to school.'

They rolled their eyes but uncrossed their arms, deciding not to cause trouble.

The door swung open again and Mycroft walked back in with a pale and dizzy looking John in tow.

'John, what's the matter?' Sherlock asked immediately. 'What did you do, Mycroft?'

Ron moved to sit by the twins so that John could sit next to Sherlock.

'Side-Along Apparition. It was his first time- he'll be all right in a minute,' Mycroft said curtly. Sherlock glared at him angrily. John cleared his throat, looked around the room and finally looked at Sherlock in confusion. He frowned at the sheet and Sherlock could practically hear the cogs turning in his head.

'Are you- wearing any pants?'

'No.'

John caught Sherlock's eye- what he could see of it- and they both burst into fits of giggles.

'When you've both stopped behaving like children-'

'But that's precisely what we are, Mycroft,' Sherlock smirked. 'I'm going back to my room, I'm bored.'

Sherlock rose from his seat and made for the exit, but Mycroft was too quick for him and stamped his foot firmly down on the end of the sheet, causing it to fall to his waist before he caught it.

'This is a matter of extreme importance for both myself and Mummy- grow up!'

'Get off my sheet!'

'Or what?'

'Or I'll just walk away.'

'Well I'll let you.'

'Boys, please,' Mrs Weasley finally interrupted.

'The Minister and everyone in his office will be here this afternoon, now for goodness' sake- _put your clothes on!'_

Sherlock scowled sulkily at Mycroft and stormed from the room. They could hear him stomping up the stairs.

When Sherlock returned he was wearing, smart, black robes and was accompanied by his mother.

'Please join us in the dining room,' she said, turning her heel and directing them back through the first hall and into a door just beyond the staircases.

The dining room was subdued, most of the long, ornate table was empty and the few guests there were, were clustered in the middle. To Harry's surprise and the Weasleys' disgust, Draco Malfoy was sat on the far side, beside a man with white-blond hair that could only be his father. Sherlock stomped to the other side of the table- as far from the Malfoys as possible- closely followed by John and the Weasleys. There was an elderly woman in deep purple robes beside Sherlock.

'Hello, Sherlock, it's lovely to see you, dear,' she smiled. Sherlock returned with his own, rare smile and put an arm around her.

'And you, Mrs Hudson,' he replied. Mrs Holmes made no move to introduce anyone, instead sitting down beside Mycroft.

'We're ready, Melly,' she called into the air. Harry looked around in confusion until a wide-eyed, little house-elf bounced into the room, carrying a silver tray of empty glasses in one hand and a stack of china plates with silver cutlery balanced on top in the other. She was wearing a smart, neatly pressed, powder blue dress. She squeaked when she saw Harry, setting down a plate, a glass and a set of cutlery in front of him. Sherlock chuckled at the expression on John's face. His jaw was hanging wide open as he watched Melly walking around the table.

'She's a house-elf,' Sherlock muttered to him.

'A house-elf?' he repeated.

'Yes. Most old wizarding families have one. They work for us.'

'Wow.'

Melly came up beside John and smiled at him, waggling her ears slightly.

'What would sir like to drink?' she asked in a squeaky voice. 'Melly can get sir pumpkin juice, butterbeer, or water. Or Melly can get sir a hot drink. Melly can make sir tea, coffee or hot chocolate.'

'Er…' John stammered.

'He'll have pumpkin juice,' Sherlock smirked. 'And I'll just have water, thank you, Melly.'

She curtsied slightly and went back round the table, asking everyone what they wanted to drink, before leaving the room. Low chatter began to spread out across the table, mostly amongst the Minister, Percy, Mycroft and the Malfoys. John didn't say much, following Sherlock's lead until Mycroft dragged them into the conversation.

'It is such a shame that the Edlunds couldn't make it,' he said loudly.

'Yes, well, since Lucy disappeared, I would assume they have better things to do than attend tedious dinner parties. What exactly is it you're doing about Lucy, Minister?' Sherlock asked coldly.

'Lucy disappeared,' John said.

'Yes, she did. After her somewhat dramatic exit, she never went home. It seems the Ministry hasn't sent anyone after her at all.'

'Ahem- yes, well there's, ah, not a lot we can do. American nationals and all…' the Minister blustered awkwardly.

'But the American Ministry won't do anything because she lives in Britain.'

'That's enough, Sherlock,' Mycroft said sternly.

Melly served them their first course of salmon and cream cheese, which everyone picked at without really noticing what they were eating, before their main course was brought out. A steaming, crispy duck on a silver platter was placed on the table and Mrs Holmes handed the Minister a carving knife.

'Would you like to do the honours, Minister?'

'It would be my pleasure,' he smiled. Sherlock rolled his eyes, Ron following suit.

'So, Lucius, is young Draco hoping to join our Ministry when his education is complete?' the Minister asked Mr Malfoy.

'That is the plan,' he replied, plastering a sickly smile across his pointed features.

'And what about Sherlock?'

'I wouldn't join the Ministry if it was the last job on Earth,' Sherlock scoffed before Mycroft could say anything. Duck was placed on everyone's plates, but no one touched it, as they were all now staring at the Minister, waiting for his reply.

'And why is that?' he asked Sherlock calmly.

'The Ministry is full of idiots and power hungry morons and none of them could be any less ineffectual in a crisis if they tried. It would be a waste of my intellect,' Sherlock said boldly.

'The Ministry would be too good for a Muggle-loving pinhead like you,' Draco Malfoy sneered from half way down the table.

'Draco-'

'Perhaps you could tell me how I love Muggles, seeing as I've never met one.'

'What are you talking about, there's one sat right next to you.'

Sounds of outrage burst from the Weasleys' end of the table, Mycroft put his head in his hands and Mr Malfoy hissed in Draco's ear. The babble died down and Sherlock glared at Draco.

'I'm warning you, Malfoy, if you ever so much as _think _about flapping those worms you call lips like that ever again, it'll be the last time you have lips.'

'Sherlock, that's enough-'

'Come, Draco, I think it's about time we left,' Mr Malfoy said coldly, rising from his chair.

'Yes, we should be going too, lots of work to do. Thank you for the wonderful dinner, Mrs Holmes.'

The Minister and all of the people that had accompanied him got up and followed the Malfoys out. Mrs Holmes gracefully excused herself while Melly cleared away the plates in front of the empty seats. Ron tucked into his food, finally able to enjoy himself. Mycroft groaned.

'Oh, don't sulk, Mycroft, you'll get the promotion,' Sherlock sniffed.

On the morning they were meant to be going to Diagon Alley, Mrs Weasley roused them early, fed and watered them and marched them in front of the fireplace. Mrs Weasley grabbed a flowerpot off of the mantelpiece and peered inside.

'We're running low, Arthur,' she told Mr Weasley. 'We'll have to get some more while we're out. Ah well, guests first, Harry!'

She passed him the flowerpot, which he stared at, mystified.

'What do I do?' he asked shyly.

'Harry's never travelled by Floo powder, before,' Ron piped up suddenly. 'Sorry, Harry, I forgot.'

'Never?' Mrs Weasley asked. 'How did you get to Diagon Alley before?'

'I went on the Underground-'

'_Really?' _Mr Weasley interrupted. 'Were there _escapators?'_

'Um-'

'Oh, not _now, _Arthur. Well Floo powder's quicker but if you've never done it before…'

'He'll be fine, Mum. Look, watch us, Harry,' said Fred. He took a pinch of the glittering powder, stepped up to the fireplace and threw it into the flames. With a roar, the flames turned emerald green and rose higher than Fred, who stepped right in and shouted, 'Diagon Alley!' and vanished.

Ron drifted off into a daydream as his parents explained to Harry how to use the Floo Network, barely noticing as George followed Fred up the chimney.

At last, Harry stepped into the fireplace and Ron winced as he started choking on the soot.

'D-D- Diagonalley,' he sneezed incomprehensibly.

'That wasn't very clear,' Ginny pointed out as he disappeared.

'No, it wasn't,' Mrs Weasley frowned. 'Go on, Ron.'

Ron threw the powder into the fire, stepped into it and shouted, 'Diagon Alley!'

He shot out of the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron, right at Fred and George's feet.

'Where's Harry,' he heard Fred ask while he was dusting himself off.

'What do you mean?'

'I thought he was coming next,' said George.

'He was. He did. Must've got off at the wrong grate.'

Ginny flew out of the fireplace at them, followed by Percy and Mr and Mrs Weasley

'Ah. Thought this might have happened. He wasn't very clear…' Mr Weasley said as he helped Ginny up. Mrs Weasley looked horrified.

'I'm sure he's fine, Mum,' said George, pushing Percy over, who was still getting to his feet.

'We should have just brought him by broom-'

'_Ron!'_

John emerged from a shady corner of the pub, with a petite, blonde woman who was presumably his mother.

'Hey, John,' the all grinned.

'Good summer?'

They nodded and made noises of affirmative.

'Have you seen Harry?' Ron asked.

'No, is he here?'

'Dunno. Could be anywhere,' said Fred.

'Oh, come on, Mum, he's Harry Potter. He's not likely to be lost forever, is he?'

'Yeah, he'll turn up,' George reassured.

'He must be so frightened, the poor dear.'

'Don't worry, we'll find him,' Mr Weasley smiled. 'Right boys?'

The Weasleys made for the door and John hesitated.

'Don't worry, John, go with your friends. I'll be fine,' Mrs Watson smiled kindly.

John gave her a swift hug and said, 'I'll meet you at Gringotts,' before dashing off after the Weasley boys.

After racing up and down Diagon Alley a few times, they had still not found him.

'I think I should probably go and find my mum,' John panted.

'All right, we'll come with you,' said Ron. They walked back up towards Gringotts, when a skinny boy with dark, messy curls backed out of the Apothecary, examining a jar of newt eyes. John grinned, immediately recognising Sherlock Holmes. His hair now obscured the entire top half of his face, leaving only the end of his nose and his mouth in view.

'How can you even see past all that hair?'

'Ah, John, I wondered when you'd get here,' he said, looking up from his jar, a small smile playing upon his lips. 'Why are you all out of breath?'

'We lost Harry after he used Floo powder for the first time,' Ron explained. Sherlock looked at them in confusion.

'But he's just over there with Hagrid, Hermione and Castiel,' he said, pointing towards the foot of the white steps leading up to Gringotts. And indeed he was. Ron and the other Weasleys sprinted up to them. Mrs Weasley appeared as well, dragging Ginny along with her. John glanced about.

'Are you on your own?' he asked. Sherlock looked around vaguely.

'Mycroft's around here somewhere.'

He turned away and went to the others.

'Sherlock! John!' Castiel said delightedly. He had grown a few inches over the summer and was now almost as tall as Hermione. He had on his ever-present trench coat, though it did not drag on the ground so much anymore and the shadow of a bruise rested on his cheek.

'What happened to your face?' John asked. Castiel looked at him quizzically before touching the bruise lightly.

'This? I fell off my broom,' he said. 'It was my fault. I was not paying attention to my surroundings. Come, Gabriel is waiting for me inside.'

They entered the bank at the behest of a bowing goblin, into a long, white marble hall, where various parents and siblings were waiting to be introduced to one another.

'But you're _Muggles,' _Mr Weasley exclaimed delightedly, catching sight of Hermione's parents and John's mother. 'We must have a drink!'

'We should all meet back here,' Ron muttered as Mr Weasley led the Grangers and Mrs Watson out of the bank.

Everyone except John and Hermione were led underground by goblins. Castiel and Gabriel went to take a different cart to the rest of them.

'Our vault is quite close to the top, it's pretty new,' Gabriel explained before shooting off at breakneck speed. Harry greatly enjoyed his own cart ride, though Sherlock could think of several things he'd rather be doing and held tightly on to the rail.

First stop was the Weasleys' vault. Even Sherlock looked slightly uncomfortable as Mrs Weasley scooped the last few coins from their vault. Mycroft made a mental note to get Arthur Weasley a raise.

Next was Harry's vault. He hastily attempted to block the contents of his vault from view while he filled a bag with coins.

Finally, far underground, they came to the Holmes' vault. Larger than Harry had ever seen and when it was opened, he saw nothing but ribbon-tied rolls of parchment, stone slab-sized books and delicate, golden instruments. Mycroft disappeared inside and returned with a large, clinking bag full of coins.

At last, they returned to the surface, where Castiel took a grateful breath of fresh air.

'We'll all meet at Flourish and Blotts in an hour,' Mrs Weasley said. Gabriel pressed a few coins into Castiel's hand.

'I have to make a stop at the Apothecary, so I'll get your things while I'm there, okay?'

Castiel nodded and Gabriel disappeared into the crowd. Mycroft also left in the direction of the _Daily Prophet _offices, closely followed by Percy, who still seemed eager to impress.

Left to their own devices, the group decided to sit down and get some ice cream while Sherlock regaled them with stories about things he'd blown up over the holidays. Once they were done, they wandered up the alley, looking at the things in all the shop windows. Ron gazed longingly at a full set of Chudley Cannon robes blazing bright orange through the window of 'Quality Quidditch Supplies' until Hermione dragged them away to buy parchment next door. In Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke shop, they ran into Fred and George and their friend Lee Jordan, who were busy stocking up on 'Dr Filibuster's Fabulous Wet Start, No Heat Fireworks'.

Finally, an hour had passed, so they headed for Flourish and Blotts, but, to their surprise, they saw a large crowd gathered outside the door trying to get in. The reason for this was spread across a large, brightly coloured banner stretched over the upper windows.

_GILDEROY LOCKHART_

_will be signing copies of his autobiography_

_MAGICAL ME_

_today 12:30- 4:30_

'We can actually meet him!' Hermione squealed. 'I mean, he's written most of the booklist!'

A harassed- looking wizard stood by the door, attempting to calm the crowd of witches down. They squeezed through the crowd, into the shop, where the queue wound right to the back of the building. They each grabbed a copy of _Break with a Banshee _and snuck up to where the rest of the Weasleys, the Grangers and Mrs Watson where standing.

'Oh good, you're all here,' Mrs Weasley said. 'We'll be able to see him in a minute.'

She sounded rather breathless and kept patting her hair. Castiel began to feel a little uncomfortable at the masses of people crushing in around him and jumped as a pair of hands placed themselves on his shoulders.

'Hey, it's just me,' Gabriel said softly. Slowly, Gilderoy Lockhart came in to view, surrounded by large photographs of himself, all winking and flashing their bright white teeth at them. The real Lockhart was wearing robes of forget-me-not blue that exactly matched his eyes. His pointed wizard's hat perched at a jaunty angle on the top of his head. Sherlock's mouth twisted at the sight of him.

A short, irritable man was bobbing around with a camera that kept emitting clouds of purplish-black smoke. He shoved Castiel roughly aside in his haste to get a good picture. Castiel tripped over Ron's foot and landed with a smack on the ground.

'Hey, watch what you're doing!' Gabriel yelled at the photographer, helping Castiel back up.

'Stand aside, this is for the _Daily Prophet_,' he said back stiffly.

'I'm fine, Gabriel,' Castiel mumbled, rubbing his arm. Gabriel shouted at the photographer again and caught Lockhart's eye. He saw Gabriel first, then Harry. He stared. Then he leapt to his feet and positively shouted, 'It _can't _be Harry Potter?'

The crowd parted, whispering excitedly and Lockhart dived for Harry, grabbed his arm and yanked him up to the front. Sherlock chuckled quietly to himself as Harry flushed bright red at having his picture taken. Lockhart threw an arm around Harry's shoulders, clamping him tightly to his side.

'Ladies and gentlemen,' he said loudly, waving for quiet. 'What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time!

'When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography- which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge- he had _no idea _that he would shortly be getting much, much ,more than my book, _Magical Me. _He and his fellow school friends will, in fact, be getting the real, magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure in announcing that, this September, I will be taking up the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!'

Sherlock gave a small cry of disgust, but no one but John heard him over the claps and cheers that followed the announcement. He watched on as Harry found himself being presented with the entire works of Gilderoy Lockhart and staggered away to stand by Ginny and her new cauldron. John looked over his shoulder and saw a blond head that was unmistakably Draco Malfoy's shove his way towards them. He elbowed Sherlock and nodded his head towards them.

'I see them,' he said and slipped through the crowd to stand by their side, at which point, Harry and Hermione were gripping the back of Ron's jacket to stop him from attacking Malfoy.

'Ron!' said Mr Weasley, suddenly appearing behind them. 'What are you doing? It's mad in here, let's go outside.'

'Well, well, well- Arthur Weasley.'

It was Mr Malfoy, his slow, drawling tone making John's skin crawl. He stood with his hand on Draco's shoulder.

'Lucius,' said Mr Weasley coldly.

'Busy time at the Ministry, I hear,' said Mr Malfoy. 'All those raids… I do hope they're paying you overtime?'

He reached into Ginny's cauldron and extracted, from amongst the glossy Lockhart books that Harry had dumped in there, a very, very battered copy of _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration._

'Obviously not,' he said. 'Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?'

John clenched his jaw and tried not to open his mouth, lest profanities come pouring out.

'We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy,' Mr Weasley said.

'Clearly,' said Mr Malfoy, his pale eyes straying to the Grangers and Mrs Watson, who were watching apprehensively. 'The company you keep, Weasley… and I thought your family could sink no lower-'

Mr Weasley threw himself at Mr Malfoy, knocking him backwards into a bookshelf. The crowd stampeded backwards, away from the falling books and very nearly knocking Castiel over again. Sherlock found himself suddenly gripped by cold fury. How dare he speak about John's mother that way? He began pelting large (and heavy) spellbooks at Mr Malfoy, much to the delight of Fred and George.

'Break it up there, gents, break it up-' Hagrid's loud voice called as he waded through the sea of fallen books. In an instant he pulled the two fighting men apart and John had to grab Sherlock's arm to stop him from slinging an _Encyclopaedia of Toadstools._

'Here, girl- take your book,' Mr Malfoy said, thrusting Ginny's Transfiguration book at her. 'It's the best your father can give you.'

He pulled himself out of Hagrid's grip and dragged Draco from the shop. The rest of them soon followed, leaving Gilderoy Lockhart talking excitedly to a reporter.

'You don't think you could work that into the report, do you? It's all publicity, you know, although it's a pity those Winchester boys didn't turn up. That would have made the front page for a week…'

Outside, Mycroft had finally returned with Percy.

'Can John stay with us, Mycroft?' Sherlock asked suddenly. 'For the rest of the holidays?'

John gaped at him and Mycroft raised an eyebrow.

'_Please, _Mycroft?'

Mycroft hesitated, and then sighed.

'All right, I suppose so- _If _it's all right with Mrs Watson.'

John turned to his mother.

'Can I, Mum?'

She eyed him and folded her arms.

'On one condition,' she said. 'You come home for Christmas.'

John grinned widely.

'Deal!' he laughed, hugging her tightly. 'Tell Harry I said goodbye.'

'Of course I will. Now, how do I get out of here?'

John laughed again.

'We'll take you.'

Everyone walked back up to the Leaky Cauldron, where they said goodbye to each other, promising to write and wishing them a good rest of the holidays.

'I'll see you all soon!' Hermione waved, leaving with her parents.

'I'll be along for John's things later,' Mycroft informed Mrs Watson as, one by one, the Weasleys, Harry, Castiel and Gabriel disappeared in the fireplace in a roar of green flames. John hugged her again and watched her leave through the front door.

'Are we going by Floo powder?' John asked.

'Don't be ridiculous,' Sherlock snorted. 'We came by car.'

* * *

Hello everyone and welcome back!

First of all I'd like to apologise for how long I was away, _but _it was totally worth it because I GOT A PLACE IN MY FIRST CHOICE UNI DOING CREATIVE WRITING.

Second, I'd like to thank everyone who came back despite the hiatus and I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I'm not going to guarantee that the chapters will be quicker in coming because I still have a lot of work to do in getting the qualifications I need for uni and right now the only time I have to write is while I'm traveling but I wanted this to be ready for christmas.

Remember to check the tags because I will update that as often as possible.

Happy Holidays everyone!


	2. The Whomping Willow

The Whomping Willow

The last few weeks of the holidays were the least boring Sherlock had ever had. The first night John stayed over; they spent the afternoon pushing an extra bed into Sherlock's spacious bedroom only to construct a crude blanket fort in the corner between the two beds. Throughout the weeks it was there that they stashed various snacks and treats pilfered from the kitchen. Most nights, John slept like a log, while Sherlock found himself wide awake beside him, staring up at the deep blue ceiling of their little fort.

At last, after weeks of playing childish tricks on Mycroft whenever he was in, Sherlock decided that he was ready to go back to Hogwarts. He missed being allowed to do magic. The night before they were due to leave everything went smoothly. Everything was packed and ready to go. Mycroft sent them to bed a little earlier than usual, as Sherlock had a tendency to oversleep (when he slept).

Sherlock had managed to force himself to sleep when something disturbed from his barely unconscious state. He blinked awake and felt John writhing in his sleep beside him. Propping himself up on his elbow he looked down at John's fear-creased face, eyeballs flicking this way and that underneath their lids, and groaning softly. He put his other hand to John's shoulder to try and rouse him but, as soon as he touched his palm to the fabric pyjamas darkness pressed down over his eyes- he was blind! It twisted itself into all of his senses until he could no longer tell where he was, feeling and seeing nothing but John beneath his fingers and a dull, ominous hissing in his ears.

It was over as quickly as it had begun. His sight cleared and he fell backwards onto his own pile of blankets and cushions. John remained as he was, whimpering and tangled in the bedclothes. Sherlock quietly crawled out of the fort, threw a silk dressing gown around his shoulders and crept from the room.

Later, John awoke, breathing heavily, and sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. As the drowsiness seeped from his body, he realised he was drenched in sweat and suddenly felt very sticky and dirty, so he climbed out of the fort (getting somewhat entangled as he went) and walked slowly to the bathroom, where he splashed water across his face. The water dripped into the pristine white sink and John heard music reverberating off the tiles. It was sweet but mournful so he followed the sound, seeing that it was almost dawn as he passed a window. He came to a large, almost bare room with the opposite wall almost completely made of glass. The meagre light from outside silhouetted Sherlock and the instrument he held in his hand.

'You play violin?' John said quietly. Sherlock ended his song with a flourish of the bow.

'It helps me think,' he murmured without looking away from the window. John lowered himself to the ground and hugged his knees, leaning against the wall. Sherlock started playing again and John felt his eyelids droop.

'What are you thinking about?'

Sherlock stared out of the window, not particularly concentrating on his music.

'Many things, I suppose,' he mumbled, but John didn't hear him, having fallen asleep where he sat. Which was just as well, Sherlock supposed. He had been reminded of the night he and Castiel had met the centaurs in the Forbidden Forest and it just so happened that he was thinking of the prophecy they'd told them about. But he couldn't tell John, he wasn't ready yet. But when would he be? Could what had happened earlier that night be that 'connection' they'd mentioned? Sherlock's gaze softened as he saw how small John looked in this room and took off his dressing gown so that he could drape it over John to keep him warm.

When the sun had risen, John woke again to find an empty room and the sun shining in his eyes. Stumbling down the stairs, he found Sherlock and Mycroft, fully dressed, in the kitchen.

'Good morning,' Sherlock said, handing him a steaming cup of tea.

'Everything's already been loaded into the car, ready to go whenever you are, John,' Mycroft told him.

About an hour later, John set down his empty mug and went back upstairs to throw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Outside a sleek, black car was waiting for them with miniature Ministry flags attached to the bonnet with everything already packed into the boot, their trunks included.

'How does everything fit in the boot?' John asked, enjoying the feeling of the supple leather seats as he climbed into the back of the car.

'Undetectable Extension Charm,' Sherlock said. 'Pretty self-explanatory.'

They arrived at King's Cross in good time and bumped into Gabriel and Castiel, who was limping, carrying a large cage containing Grace.

'What happened to your leg?' John asked him.

'Not my leg, my foot. I dropped my trunk on it.'

They grabbed trollies for their trunks and walked into the station.

'This is where I leave you, Sherlock. I trust you can get all of your things on the train?'

Sherlock rolled his eyes in place of a reply, pushed his trolley at the barrier between platforms nine and ten and disappeared in the blink of an eye. John went next, followed by Castiel and, finally, Gabriel. The train was already half full and they found Hermione in a compartment on her own about a third of the way up the train. Gabriel headed off down the carriage with both his and Castiel's trunks to find his friend. Castiel curled up in a corner, placed Grace carefully down, wrapped himself in his coat and drew a glossy, new copy of '_Holidays with Hags'_ from his coat pocket. Hermione followed suit and Sherlock lay himself across the seats on one side of the compartment and stared at the ceiling.

'Sherlock, are you okay?' John asked concernedly, sitting down beside Hermione.

'Fine, why?'

'Well, you didn't get much sleep last night-'

'I can go a while without sleep.'

John shrugged and sat back in his seat. He looked out of the window and saw a clock, which read ten fifty-five.

'Hey, have any of you seen Harry and the Weasley's yet?' John asked. Hermione looked up from her book, shook her head, and frowned.

'They're cutting it a bit fine, don't you think?'

Sherlock shrugged.

'They'll be here.'

An uncomfortable feeling filled John's stomach. He felt like pacing around the compartment but it lacked the room to pace in. Finally, the train's whistle blew and it slowly began to pull out of the slowly began to pull out of the station.

'I think they may have missed the train,' John said.

'But how will they get to school?' Hermione worried, biting her lip.

'By doing something unbelievably idiotic, I should imagine,' Sherlock muttered.

'_Sherlock,' _John chastised.

'Well, it is Ron.'

'Perhaps we ought to send a letter to Hogwarts,' Hermione broke in. 'May we borrow Grace, Castiel?'

'Of course,' he said, undoing the catch on her cage. She flapped out and waited obediently on the top of the cage until Hermione was done writing her letter. She opened the window and put Grace carefully out of it. Castiel put his book down and gingerly removed his shiny, black shoe and peeled off his sock to reveal a swollen, purple and blue bruised mess of a foot. John whistled sympathetically. It looked so sore that he could practically see it throbbing.

'Looks broken to me,' he said. Castiel poked it with his wand.

'Fractured,' he grimaced.

'Ouch. Does anyone have any bandages or anything?'

Castiel shook his head and waved his wand.

'_Ferula,' _he said calmly. Bandages wrapped themselves tightly around his foot. He rubbed it with his hand and, seemingly satisfied with his handiwork, went back to his book. The kindly old witch that pushed the lunch trolley came and went, none of them buying anything. John's eyelids began to droop and he had just about nodded off until he heard the compartment door slide open and Sherlock tut impatiently. He opened his eyes and saw Anderson and Donovan standing in the doorway.

'What do you want?' John asked warily.

'What's up, Watson, we were just wondering who you think the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher is,' said Donovan.

'Well, it's quite clearly a witch, considering nearly the entire booklist is Lockhart books-'

'Oh don't talk out loud, Anderson, you'll lower the IQ of the entire train,' Sherlock interrupted.

'Well then, who do you think it is, freak?'

'Don't call him that, Donovan,' John scowled.

'Why not, he is.'

'Just leave it, Sally, we won't get anywhere with his guard dog around, anyway,' Anderson said, dragging Donovan away.

'Well that was weird,' John said. Sherlock dismissed it with a grunt. The sun had reached its midday peak a long while ago and was now starting to sink in the sky. John got up, stuck his head out of the window and looked straight up in the sky but saw nothing but clouds.

'What are you looking at?' Hermione asked him.

'Nothing,' he said, pulling his head back in. 'Good book?' he added to Castiel.

'This Gilderoy Lockhart seems to be very good,' he mumbled.

'Please, have you read his autobiography?' Sherlock scoffed. 'It's more inconsistent than Mycroft's relationship with food.'

Castiel narrowed his eyes at Sherlock over the top of the book.

'You're just jealous, Sherlock,' Hermione sniffed.

'Of what?'

'That he's seen and done so much more than you.'

'Come on, Hermione, just because you fancy him-'

'I do _not_!'

John laughed so hard he fell off his seat. His laughter was infectious and soon Hermione was laughing too, Sherlock was grinning to himself and Castiel's shoulders were shaking from silent giggles. All too soon, though. Hermione was buried in her book again and Sherlock was back to having a staring contest with the ceiling, leaving John to lament sitting with a group of people that enjoy silence and wonder where Harry and Ron were. He didn't notice he'd fallen asleep until he felt Sherlock shaking him awake. It was dark outside and he was the only one not in his robes yet.

'Hurry up and get changed, we're almost there,' Sherlock said. John threw his cloak over his head and was just tying his crimson tie when the train began to slow. Hermione and Castiel packed away their books away and waited patiently for the train to slide to a stop.

With a squeal of brakes the Hogwarts Express stopped at Hogsmeade station, accompanied by the scrapes and thunks of all the students grabbing their luggage. Castiel clutched Grace's cage tightly to his chest and made his way through the crush of bodies, desperate to find his brother and his luggage. He'd lost the others far back along the corridor and managed to be one of the first off the train. He breathed in the night air and loosened his claw like grip on the metal bars of the cage. People suddenly began to jostle him and stars danced in front of his eyes as someone stepped on his injured foot and making his head spin further when the same person dragged their trunk over it.

'You are so carrying your own luggage next time- hey, are you okay?'

Gabriel's face swam into view and he nodded slightly.

'Right, I totally believe you. Is it your foot?'

He nodded again.

'Can you walk?'

He took a cautious step forward, winced, but found it could take his weight. For now.

'Where are your friends?'

'Gabriel, I'm fine,' he said, taking hold of his trunk.

'Yeah, you tell me that when you're not hopping worse than a one-legged pigeon. Come on.'

Gabriel made to take back the trunk but Castiel wouldn't let go.

'I'm _fine.'_

Just then John tripped over to him.

'Hey there you are. We don't go across the lake this year, we go in carriages. Come on, we saved a seat for you.

Gabriel rolled his eyes.

'All right, just make sure you go to Madam Pomfrey as soon as you can.'

John led him away to the carriages. Sherlock was fascinated by them, as they seemed to be pulling themselves. He couldn't wait to find out what kind of magic it was.

'Found him,' John said as he pulled himself up into the carriage. Sherlock looked over and Castiel seemed to be staring at the space between the carriage shafts, his eyes wide.

'What is it?' Sherlock asked. He tore his eyes away and climbed up without a word.

The carriages trundled up the track and the winged boars of the castle gates came into view. All four of them were pleased to see it. It was cool but not uncomfortably so as they filed into the Entrance hall.

'It'll be weird watching the Sorting this year,' John commented in an attempt to break the silence between them.

'I suppose it'll be rather odd,' Hermione agreed.

Sherlock and Castiel attempted to sit at the Gryffindor table in the hopes that the new Head Boy and Girl wouldn't notice, but Mycroft had already fully briefed them and all the Prefects. Instead, they found themselves sat firmly between the two Ravenclaw Prefects. John and Hermione sat down and found Fred, George and Percy along the table.

'Fred, George!' John called. 'Where're Harry and Ron?'

They looked around.

'Dunno, we thought they were with you!' Fred said in surprise.

'They'll turn up,' George reassured.

'Hey! Hey, Watson!'

John turned his head towards the voice.

'Where's Potter? Did he decide he wasn't fit to be around real wizards?' Malfoy said from the Slytherin table. John didn't bother to provide an answer. He and Hermione sat listening to the conversation around them. They heard one boy describing how he'd driven a Muggle car all around a field by his house.

'So, what did you get up to over the summer, Hermione?' John asked, grateful for the opportunity to talk to her without a book blocking her face.

'Well, I read this really fascinating book about early wizards and when they started to differentiate between hexes and curses.'

John smiled to himself. She was enthusiastic to say the least.

'Where do you think they are?' she asked, biting her lip.

'They can't be far,' John said reassuringly.

Sherlock found himself sliding further and further down on the bench. Why do feasts have to be so boring? He looked at Castiel, who seemed to be in a world of his own and rubbing his foot absent-mindedly. At last, the hall fell silent as Professor McGonagall placed a rickety old, three-legged stool at the front before the high table, and put the tattered and frayed Sorting Hat on top of it. She left and, after a few minutes, returned with a crowd of frightened first-years. A few of them gasped as the hat opened the rip near its brim and started talking.

_The sight of me may not be nice_

_But do not avert your eyes…_

Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes. The Sorting Hat's song was so _boring _now that he wasn't in the ceremony. Now, if it went into explicit detail on the proper method of jinx casting, it might stand a chance of being interesting. Castiel nudged him gently.

'I'm worried about Harry and Ron,' he whispered. Sherlock groaned and sat up straight, ruffling his hair.

'Don't worry, Castiel, even if it wasn't Harry, you would still be able to spot Ron's hair from miles away. Someone will find them.'

At last, the Sorting Hat was finished with its song and Professor McGonagall pulled out a scroll and unfurled it. Sherlock glared at Snape, spotting him exiting the room quietly through a side door.

'He's up to something,' Sherlock said to Castiel.

'You're always so suspicious of him.'

'Well, he's a suspicious man.'

'You suspected him of attempting to murder a student and trying to bring You-Know-Who back to power.'

'Yes, and?'

'And you were wrong. Leave it alone.'

'Creevey, Colin,' Professor McGonagall announced. A mousy-haired, little boy wobbled up to the stool and sat down. They all got a glimpse of his painfully excited expression before the hat slipped over his eyes. It hesitated for a moment before, 'GRYFFINDOR!'

The Gryffindor table erupted into cheers as the year's first new student became one of their own. John and Hermione clapped along with them.

'Doyle, Hannah.'

'HUFFLEPUFF!'

It was the Hufflepuffs' turn to cheer now, Gabriel among them with his gleaming new, yellow Prefect's badge.

'Georgia Fenn.'

'GRYFFINDOR!'

This girl walked confidently to the table as if she'd been expecting this her whole life and John supposed she probably had. He sighed and gazed at his empty plate longingly, regretting not having eaten on the train. He looked back up at the first-years and groaned at how many of them were still left.

'Lovegood, Luna.'

A girl with long, dirty-blonde hair skipped up to the Sorting Hat and gently put it on her head. The hat looked like it was chuckling quietly to itself before, 'RAVENCLAW!'

She thanked the hat and put it back on the stool. John watched her skip to the Ravenclaw table and gaze dreamily at her goblet.

'Moriarty, James.'

John's head snapped back round to look at the boy strolling casually up to the three-legged stool. Something in the name caught his attention, though he wished it hadn't. This James Moriarty had the most revolting smile on his face that seemed to freeze John in place.

'SLYTHERIN!'

Naturally, John thought. His horrible expression had not shifted at all and as he made his way over to the Slytherin table, he caught John's eye. Suddenly, he felt slightly queasy and tore his eyes away just in time to catch the next Sorting.

'Morstan, Mary.'

John closed his eyes and attempted to rid himself of the awful feeling that had accumulated in his gut.

'SLYTHERIN!'

He forced himself to look back at has plate and try to coax back the appetite that, moments before, had been filling his mind with thoughts of food, but was now completely gone. The line of first-years dwindled to the last two.

'Vickery, Jasmine,' was sorted into Ravenclaw and finally, Ron's sister, Ginny.

'Weasley, Ginevra,' Professor McGonagall called. Ginny stepped up, her flaming hair visible from all sides.

If it had eyes, the hat probably would have rolled them.

'GRYFFINDOR!' it said almost lazily.

As soon as Ginny took her place beside Hermione, Dumbledore stood up to greet them.

'Welcome to another year at Hogwarts!' he announced cheerfully. 'Or your first! Before we begin our fantastic feast, there are a few words I would like to say, and they are: dactylion, squid, rubber.

'You may begin!'

All the gold dishes and goblets filled with delicious food and drink. It was clearly meant to distract people from Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore exiting the room the way Snape had gone, his face briefly appearing around the door. John nudged Hermione and nodded towards the door. She caught them just as they were closing it.

'I think it's safe to say they found Harry and Ron,' he said.

'Looks like it,' she grimaced. John looked across and Sherlock and Castiel to see if they'd noticed and with Sherlock's sharp gaze fixed firmly on the door, John thought it was possible that he had. The feast passed at a sluggish pace, though Snape, McGonagall and Dumbledore soon returned, with Snape looking particularly sour. John picked forlornly at some cabbage while Hermione kept glancing at the main door, waiting for Harry and Ron to come in. Sherlock caught John's eye with a questioning look, which he countered with a nod towards Castiel, who had put his head in his hands and was not even touching his food. The pain emanating from his foot was now beginning to overwhelm him with sharp stabs shooting up his leg. The main course vanished and was replaced by sweet-smelling puddings which the Prefects either side of them eagerly dug into. Castiel removed his shoe and sock again and unwound the bandage discreetly under the table. He put a hand on it and he could feel it radiating heat. The bruise had spread and turned his toes and ankle a mottled pink, green and purple. He sighed resignedly, pointed his wand and whispered '_Ferula'_. Fresh bandages wound around his foot, while he stuffed the old ones into his pocket- followed by his sock and shoe- and he looked up right into Sherlock's face. At that, the puddings too disappeared and they waited patiently for Dumbledore to make his start-of-term speech warning the first-years against the Forbidden Forest and reminding all students of banned items.

The noise in the hall heightened as people began to make their way out to the entrance hall. Sherlock pushed through the crowds and found John and Hermione outside. Castiel had disappeared into the crowd. Fred and George came up behind them and one of them tapped Hermione on the shoulder.

'Hey, we talked to some first-years and apparently they saw a flying car while they were crossing the lake,' said Fred.

'What and you think Ron and Harry were the ones flying it?' Hermione said sceptically. 'That's ridiculous.'

'Well, there's also this,' George said, whipping out a copy of the _Evening Prophet_. The headline read: FLYING FORD ANGLIA MYSTEFIES MUGGLES.

'"Two Muggles in London, convinced they saw an old car flying over the Post Office tower…",' George read out. Hermione rolled her eyes.

'There's no way they haven't been expelled for this.'

'Come on, they couldn't possibly be that stupid-'

'Oh, they could,' Sherlock interrupted.

'Even if they weren't, I'm pretty sure we own the only flying Ford Anglia,' Fred pointed out. 'Oh well, we'll find out soon enough. The password's 'wattlebird' by the way, see you later.'

Fred and George said goodbye and hurried off up the marble staircase.

'Did either of you see where Castiel went?' Sherlock asked.

'No.'

Sherlock shrugged.

'He's probably gone to get his foot mended. I'll see you tomorrow,' and he too left for his dormitory.

Hermione and John lingered in the Entrance hall until it was all but empty.

'Maybe they're already up there,' John suggested. Hermione reluctantly agreed, so they climbed the stairs in silence. They reached the flight just before the portrait of the Fat Lady and found Harry and Ron standing outside. Hermione and John glanced at each other briefly before running up the rest of the stairs towards them.

'_There _you are!' Hermione exclaimed. 'Where have you _been? _The most _ridiculous _rumours- Fred and George said you'd been expelled for crashing a flying _car.'_

'Well, we haven't been expelled,' Harry assured them.

'You're not telling me you _did _fly here?'

John started laughing beside her but stopped at the stern look she gave him.

'Don't encourage them!' she said. 'They could have gotten in serious trouble!'

'Skip the lecture and tell us the password,' Ron said impatiently.

'It's 'wattlebird',' Hermione said, 'but that's not the point-'

She was cut short by a storm of applause that burst through the portrait hole. It looked as if the entire Gryffindor house had crowded into the common room to wait for them to arrive. They were pulled into the room by outstretched arms, forcing Hermione and John to squeeze their way in behind them.

'Brilliant!' yelled Lee Jordan. 'Inspired! Flying a car right into the Whomping Willow, people'll be talking about that one for years!'

Hermione rolled her eyes and tutted irritably.

'Come one, Hermione, lighten up. They weren't expelled or hurt- well except that cut on Ron's face- it could have been worse,' John said good-naturedly. She shook her head and folded her arms. John grinned and followed Harry and Ron as they escaped up to the dormitory, making their excuses. Their trunks had been brought up for them and John entered the room just as they were having their spectacular entrance praised by Dean, Seamus and Neville.

'A flying car? _Really?'_ John laughed. Harry grinned sheepishly and they stayed up late into the night, describing exactly what had happened.

* * *

Ok prepare for a really long AN

First of all, thanks to **Welcome to My Mad House, TS17isme, children of prophecies, mossfire, mightyBookworm, The403yearold, SethMaxwell06, Guest** and** Darren-Gleek **for the lovely reviews, I really appreciate it guys :)

Another big thank you to **ScazzaGrace **my amazing beta and **Fandomcrazyor **who did some beautiful fanart, which you can find here art/Superpotterlock-Chapter1-430806065

So did everybody catch Sherlock? What did you think? I thought it was amazing, I really loved how emotive Sherlock was this series. But the first episode got me thinking cos it was like ship city over there, so what's everybody's ships? Doesn't have to be Sherlock, let me know on the Supernatural front too :3

Also we found out some things about minor character e.g Anderson's real first name is Phillip and Sherlock's parents. Does anyone mind if I leave things the way they are? It's been proven to not be canon anymore but I like it.

Have a good day everyone :D


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